Envoi

When shadows pass across the grass And April breezes stir the sedge, Along the brimming river's edge I trail my line for silver trout, And smoke, and dream of you, my lass, And wonder why we two fell out, And how the deuce it came about.

II.

When swallows sheer the meadow-mere And thickets thrill with thrushes' hymns, Along the mill-pond's reedy rims I trail my line for shining dace; But how can finny fishes cheer A fellow, if he find no grace In your sweet eyes and your dear face?

III.

Let thrushes wing their way and sing Where cresses freshen pebbled nooks; By silent rills and singing brooks I pass my way alone, alas! With your dear name the woodlands ring— Your name is murmured by the grass, By earth, by air, all-where I pass.

IV.

The painted bream may swim the stream— I'll cast no line to-day, pardi! In vain the river-ripples gleam, In vain the thrushes' minstrelsy. Vain is the wind that whispers, "Lo! Thy fish are waiting—Angler, go!"

V.

Will you forgive if I forgive? Life is too sad, I think, to live Alone, and dream and smoke and fish; I'll say "Forgive" first—if you wish?

VI.

For at that word, the Sorcery Of Love shall change the earth and sky To Paradise, with cherubim Instead of birds on every limb.

And down the gilded forest aisle Shy throngs of violets shall smile And kiss your feet from tree to tree While blue-bells droop in courtesy.

IX.

And if the sun incarnadine The clouds—green leaves shall be your screen;And if the clouds with jealousy Should weep—we'll beg of some kind tree A moment's hospitality.

X.

Good cheer is here, if you incline; Moss-hidden springs shall bubble wine While squirrels chuckle, rank on rank, And strawberries from every bank Shall blush to see how deep we drank.

XI.

Winds of the West shall cool our eyes While every woodland creature tries His voice a little, so that he May know his notes more perfectly When crickets start the symphony.

XII.

Through hazel glade and scented dell Where brooklets ring a tinkling bell, The forest orchestra shall swell, Until the sun-soaked grasses ring With crickets strumming string on string.

XIII.

Then, with your white hand daintily Scarce touching mine, we'll leave our tree And ramble slowly toward the West Where our high castle's flaming crest, Towering behind the setting sun, Flings out its banners, one by one, Signals of fire, that day is done.

XIV.

Deep in that palace we shall find How blind we are, how blind! how blind! And how he'll laugh, who holds the key To the great portal's mystery! And how his joyous laugh will ring When you and I shall bid him fling The gates ajar for you and me!

XV.

Let shadows flee athwart the lea When dark December strips the hedge Along the icy river's edge; Yet, if you will forgive me, lass, The world shall bloom like spring to me, Snow turn to dew upon the grass And fagots blossom where you pass.